


reflection

by coffee666



Series: lgbta x-files [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Haircuts, Other, Pre-Series, Trans Character, Trans Mulder, Transgender, ftm mulder, idk how to tag tbh.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee666/pseuds/coffee666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't even know how to explain it to himself, how he feels different. Yet somehow, she knows. When she offers to cut his hair so he looks like a boy, how could he resist?</p>
            </blockquote>





	reflection

**Author's Note:**

> :,) here's something i wrote to go with the mulder is trans headcanon.
> 
> also another thing, in my headcanon he doesn't change his first name just because
> 
> a) fox is uncommon and can be unisex  
> and  
> b) nobody calls him that anyways.
> 
> also scully is trans too but that's another story.
> 
> i'm on tumblr @canonmulder

He brushed the hair back from his eyes and looked down again. One way to make the long summer days pass was to assemble the puzzle he had. It was diligent work, and a lot easier when he didn’t have his sister distracting him.

“Fox, play with me.” As if on cue, his sister walked into the room. He cast a worried glance up to make sure she didn’t bump the coffee table he was working at.

“I’m busy.” He went back to sorting through the pieces.

“How many pieces is that?” Samantha set her stuffed rabbit dangerously close to his only finished corner and leaned her elbows on the table.

“Too many for you. Go away.” He shoved at her rabbit off, knocking a few of the puzzle pieces off as well.

“Damn…” he reached down for them.

“I’ll tell mom you said a bad word if you don’t let me help.” She picked up the battered and dirty stuffed rabbit once more and held it by the ears.

“I told you, it’s too hard for you.” He brushed his bangs from his eyes once more.

“I could cut your hair for you.” She was more quiet now, a serious tone taking over her usually whiny and playfulness.

He stops, one hand hovering over an edge piece, before looking up at her through his long hair. Their mother kept saying he needed a haircut, she used to take him to the beauty shop where they’d cut all these layers.

He never minded much before, but about a year ago he’d asked for something different. He couldn’t explain that he hated looking…pretty, so he’s just told their mother he wanted something more plain. She’d cut it herself straight across the bangs and back, and well, it was alright. At least no called him pretty anymore.

But it was out again, hanging past his shoulders and in his eyes. He felt so awkward trying to explain to a stranger in a shop what he wanted. Maybe it would be easier to let her do it.

“Can you really?” he puts his hands in his lap and looks at her.

“Sure. I cut my dolls hair all the time.”

“Aw, that doesn’t really count.” He sighed dejectedly. He should have known it was too good to be true. He grabbed the puzzle box and started sliding the pieces in. Maybe he would just go outside for a while.

“Yea it does. I’m really good at it….hold on.” Samantha dropped her rabbit and ran to her room. She returned a moment later with a few Barbie dolls, all with short hair.

“You cut it yourself?” he asked her skeptically, inspecting one of them.

“Yea, Patty showed me how.”

Patty was their neighbor. A girl of about fourteen that rarely got along with, only because she was the type that wanted to talk about make-up and boys. When he was forced to hang out with her, he did like looking through her fashion magazines at the pictures of girls.

“Okay.” He swipes the rest of the pieces into the box.

“Okay, but change clothes first.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t wanna get hair all over your clothes. Wear something you don’t care about messing up.”

For a seven year old, she seems to be taking it rather serious. He goes to his room and throws on and old t-shirt from camp and old shorts.

Samantha opened the door to the bathroom and turned on the light. He sat down on the edge of the tub and she put a towel around his shoulders and fastened it with a hair clip.

“Don’t mess it up.” He said, having second doubts.

“I won’t. I’ll be careful.” She held her comb and kitchen scissors steady before going to work.

His nose itched from falling strands of hair, but he didn’t dare move. He kept his eyes squeezed shut until the last second.

“Okay…done…” She finally stepped back.

He opened his eyes and went to stand in front of the mirror. The person looking back actually took his breath away. A boy of almost twelve looked back. His hair no longer hung in his eyes.

“Do you like it?” her reflection appeared next to his.

“…Yea.” He doesn’t want to cry.

She reached up and unfastened the towel. She locked eyes with him in the mirror and smiled.

“Now you look like a boy.” She tells him.

It’s true. It an old baggy shirt and short hair. He does look like a boy! Now he really doesn’t want to cry. It’s not manly.

“Thanks.” He reaches up to brush at the back of his hair. It’s not as even or neat as it could be, but it looked great to him. Samantha was just a kid after all –it wasn’t going to be perfect.

“That’s what you wanted, right? To look like a boy?”

“What makes you say that?” he didn’t even know how to articulate that to himself, so he had no idea how she picked up on it.

“You act more like a brother than a sister.” She shrugged. “Help me sweep this up…”

He holds the dustpan for her and she sweeps up the hair. After they clean up, she looks up at him again.

“What if mom gets mad?” hints of her regular precocious self is back.

“Mad that you cut my hair?” he sat cross legged at the coffee table again and opened the puzzle box. “I’ll tell her it was my idea….and what can she do? It’s already cut off.”

“Do you want me to tell everyone you’re my brother now?” she sat next to him hesitantly.

He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He poured out the puzzle pieces and slid a few dozen her way.

“Pick out the edge pieces.” He told her, doing the same with his pile. “…I don’t know. Maybe not yet.”

“Okay…” she nods, going to work on her pile.

They stay like that for a while, each sorting and assembling a part of a bigger picture. Occasionally he reaches up the touch his hair again. It’s a strange sort of elation he can’t explain. He just hopes it doesn’t grow out too much before school starts back.

 


End file.
